Defendant

When we wake
in flux
and yawn
shedding
the prism
from our eyes
in droplets
we are
discarding
the prizes
of our
conquest.

The hallways
are sharp
and malleable.
Pay no
attention to the
trembling
beneath the sheet.
I find it so
curiously sad
how quickly
our loathing
adapts.

Am I building
a weapon for war?
Will I stand in court
and protest, no,
not possible, 
I was asleep
the whole time?

None
have seen
the destruction
of this
arcane memory.
When I wake,
the lonely legions
disintegrate
to the light of day,
and the halls
still ring
with the battle cry
of Om Nashi Me.